


A Sort of Adventure

by Tehri



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, Belladonna is not the best at reading people, Bungo is a little too nice, F/M, First Meetings, First big fight, Friendship/Love, Mistakes Are Made, Misunderstandings happen, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5487335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tehri/pseuds/Tehri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of the meeting of Belladonna Took and Bungo Baggins, of how their initial friendship grew into something more, and of how their courtship went awry for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sort of Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note regarding birthdays and such. This is firmly my own headcanon, apart from the years (and apart from Bilbo's birthday, of course). I just tried to see if I could find something that fit.  
> Bungo - 6 Forelithe (27th of May 2846)  
> Belladonna - 16 Rethe (9th of March 2852)  
> (Bilbo - 1 Winterfilth (22nd of September 2890))

The day Adamanta Chubb began her courtship with Gerontius Took, son of the Thain, she would have laughed in the face of anyone who might’ve told her that she would one day be the mother of twelve children. Hobbits might have a peculiar habit of having very large families (at the time, the record was held by a Bracegirdle family with nine strong and healthy children), but twelve was definitely a number that pushed the boundaries.

In all honesty, she had never expected that she would even have four or five. Two or three were the norm for the Chubbs, and no one expected more.

Then again, no one really took Gerontius’s more amorous side into the calculations either.

Eventually, Adamanta became the mother of nine boys and three girls. Though she was proud to have borne them into the world, she always carried the grief of losing two of her sons – Hildigard, who died of illness just after his eighth birthday, and Hildifons, who left the Shire on an adventure in his twenty-third year and never returned. Hildigard’s loss was easy to carry; she had known what was wrong, and she had been there with him in his last moments of life. But Hildifons had never been found. Gerontius had pleaded with his old friend, Gandalf the Grey, to seek for their son, but the wizard eventually had to carry them the message that he had scarcely even found rumours of which way the lad had gone.

In her anguish of believing her sixth son to be dead, Adamanta became fiercely determined to keep her children from going on any adventures. Gerontius argued with her about this many times.

“Us Tooks still feel the wanderlust from the Wandering Days, Addie,” he told her. “We are keener to wander than any other hobbits, and sometimes bad things will happen. I wandered myself before I met you, and I always travelled alone. Addie, dearest, you cannot keep the wanderlust out of our children’s hearts. It will be there, and it is they who choose whether to act upon it or not.”

“I cannot keep it from them,” Adamanta would answer fiercely. “And I will not. But I can ensure that they will be cautious, and that we will at least have words of where they wander! I will not lose another, Gerontius!”

There was one small problem with her wish to keep her children at home. The problem came in the shape of their eldest daughter, Belladonna, who was not even in her tweens when she started thinking of travelling outside the Shire.

 

Belladonna was considered a very beautiful young girl. When she was little, she always clamoured for stories and flat out refused to sleep if she didn’t get a bedtime story into the bargain. Gerontius, who was full of stories of faraway lands and bold ventures, was glad to tell her of his own travels and of his friendship with old Gandalf. And whenever the wizard visited, Belladonna would often be found right at his side, asking him questions about his journeys and what could be found outside the borders of the peaceful Shire.

She was barely old enough to leave her mother’s side to run with other children when she started leading them into her own small adventures; to the top branches of the grand old willow outside Tuckborough, to a particularly high hill not far from Tookbank, or (on one particularly memorable occasion that had all of her elder brothers out looking frantically for her and two of her friends before their parents found out) on an expedition to Pincup where she’d been apprehended halfway to her goal.

Adamanta remained sternly disapproving of her daughter’s antics and would always order Belladonna’s brothers to keep a closer eye on their little sister. Gerontius, on the other hand, would laugh when she came home covered in mud and trailing twigs and captured fireflies and frogs and would simply ask her what adventure she had been on.

At the age of seventeen, Belladonna was able to charm nearly everyone she met despite her wild nature. Her bright smile and laughter was infectious, and it was rather in her favour that she was keen to help with small tasks here and there.

At the age of twenty, she received her first taste of the world outside the Shire. Gerontius had some business in Bree, and Belladonna was allowed to come with him and her two oldest brothers (though only after a good deal of begging). Even before they reached the gates of the small town, Gerontius firmly told his daughter to stay close.

“This place is a maze unless you know the streets,” he explained when she protested. “You would get lost, my little vixen, and some of the Men around here are less than savoury characters. You cannot trust your brothers and me to get you out of trouble if you find it here.”

“But I would be careful,” Belladonna argued fiercely. “Father, this may be the only chance I’ll ever get! Please, I just want to look around!”

“Give it up, Bella,” Isumbras laughed. “Dear old father isn’t going to let you out of his sight. He didn’t let Grim or I explore either first time we were here with him.”

“But what if one of you came with me?” she pleaded. “It would be safer, wouldn’t it?”

“You’ll get your chance one day, Bella,” Isengrim sighed. “Now please, just stay close. First time Isumbras was here, we had to spend hours looking for him, and when we found him he had managed to pick a fight with the stable hand at the inn. I’d rather avoid that with you.”

Though she huffed and complained about their lack of faith in her ability to keep out of trouble, she did obey and stayed close.

Before her twenty-fifth birthday, Belladonna had gone on her first real adventure outside the borders. She had slipped away quietly from Tuckborough in the night, having made sure to leave a letter for her parents behind to inform them where she planned to go (or at least the general direction). Her wandering feet took her southwards, keeping away from villages and small towns in case her parents had sent out word to keep an eye out for her. She eventually made her way over Sarn Ford and continued on her way to the south. When she finally returned home to Tuckborough, she was fiercely scolded by her mother, embraced by her siblings and bombarded with questions by her father; though she never told any of them what had happened on that first journey.

 

It was a month after her return from that journey that she met young master Bungo Baggins. It was a rare occurrence that the Baggins-family visited Tuckborough, and whenever they did they never stayed for long. But it seemed this time that Mungo Baggins, the current head of the family, had some business with Belladonna’s father, and he had brought his eldest son with him to let him learn more of his future duties.

Belladonna had been out for a long walk among the hills behind the Great Smials, As she came back, she spotted a young male hobbit sitting under the old apple tree in the gardens with a book open on his lap and several apple cores scattered around him. He was fast asleep and looked rather content with his napping spot. Belladonna, however, was not the type to let unknown hobbits make themselves comfortable willy-nilly. She narrowed her eyes and crept through the opening in the hedge and marched towards the strange lad.

“Wake up,” she cried as she approached him. “Come now, you can’t sleep here!”

The lad let out a loud groan, but did not open his eyes. His nose twitched, and he turned his head away from the noise. Belladonna sighed and leant down to shake him awake.

“I mean it, you can’t sleep here,” she said sharply. “Wake up!”

It took a few more attempts before the lad finally opened his eyes, blinked sleepily and looked up at her. And immediately froze. Belladonna tried for a kind smile, but she had difficulty shaking off her suspicion that this was some sort of vagrant who had snuck into the garden.

“So,” she drawled. “Who on earth are you, and why are you in our garden?”

The young hobbit blushed a bright red and opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t manage much more than a choked noise. Which only made him blush more. Belladonna rolled her eyes and her somewhat strained smile softened and felt more genuine.

“Are you one of the visitors father mentioned?” she asked. “He said there would be visitors from Hobbiton here today.”

“I… Y-yes, yes, I am,” the lad choked out. He jumped to his feet, book completely forgotten, and bowed to her. “Ah, Bungo Baggins, at your service.”

“Belladonna Took, at yours,” she answered. She had not met many Bagginses before, and now that she knew who he was she felt rather curious. “From Hobbiton then, are you?”

“Yes, miss, I am,” he mumbled. He wouldn’t meet her eyes and stared down at his feet.

“Well, why are you out in the gardens?” Belladonna asked him, tilting her head. “I almost thought you were an intruder.”

Bungo stubbornly stared at his own feet and didn’t answer. After a moment of silence Belladonna sighed deeply, knelt down and picked up the book he had dropped. She held it out to him.

“Here you are,” she said. “I’d best go and get cleaned up, before mother sees me.”

Finally he looked up, and seemed to notice the mud on her dress and the twigs and leaves in her hair for the first time. He blinked several times before the surprised look on his face gave way to a small smile.

“That may be for the best,” he agreed as he took the book from her. “I’d lend you my handkerchief, but I doubt it would be enough…”

“Oh, believe me, this will take the better part of an hour to set right,” she answered cheerfully. “And possibly the help of one of my sisters to get everything out of my hair.”

She chattered on as she walked towards the door of the smial, and he followed her without a word, listening to her intently. Well inside, she flashed him her usual bright grin and received a soft smile in response.

“I’d best be off, then,” she said. “If you see my father, would you let him know I’m home?”

“I shall,” he said quietly. “And… Miss Took?”

“Yes?”

“Ah… Thank you. For waking me, that is…”

“Well, it’s not every day I find a Baggins sleeping under the apple tree,” she laughed.

 

Intrigued as she was by the shy young Baggins, Belladonna soon set out to find out whatever she could. From her siblings she found out that he was six years older than her, only two years away from his majority. Her sisters Donnamira and Mirabella told her that he was very polite but not much for conversation, and her brothers Hildigrim and Isembold said without preamble that they found him boring.

“He just doesn’t talk,” Hildigrim groaned when she asked. “I tried to talk to him, to see what sort he was, and he just didn’t say much. I swear, that is one Baggins that has mastered the art of giving an answer to a question without actually giving you an answer.”

“He reads a lot of books,” Isembold confided. “Father let him have a look at the library, and he hardly ever came out from there. It’s as though he doesn’t do anything else than eat, sleep and read.”

When her siblings weren’t more forthcoming than that, Belladonna turned to her parents. Gerontius smiled knowingly when she asked about the young Baggins-lad, and Adamanta seemed pleased enough that it was a Baggins her daughter was asking about.

“He’s a good lad,” Adamanta stated calmly. “Very clever, that one, not to mention sensible.”

“He’s a little bit shy,” Gerontius explained. “But get him talking about something he enjoys, and you’ll notice he’s quite well-read.”

“Isembold said so, yes,” Belladonna sighed. “But he seems so odd, father. He’s actually interesting.”

“Oh, so he’s odd because he seems interesting?” Gerontius laughed. “Or is it because he doesn’t say much, my little vixen? You are certainly more used to hobbits who like to talk.”

“Are all Bagginses like that?” Belladonna frowned as she spoke; she had grown up around very talkative hobbits, and it seemed odd to her that some might not actually wish to have their say. “Are they all so quiet?”

“Well, certainly not all of them,” Gerontius answered. “Old Mungo’s youngest is apparently just as bad as any of you lot.” He grinned at the indignant look on his daughter’s face. “You know it’s not a lie, Bella, don’t even try to deny it.”

“He’d be a good influence on you,” Adamanta said seriously. “Perhaps you should befriend him, dear.”

Belladonna grimaced and shook her head.

“Isembold and Hildigrim think he’s boring,” she groused. “And if he doesn’t talk, what point is there?”

“And since when do you trust every word your brothers speak?” her mother asked with amusement bleeding into her voice. “Did you know, Bella, that your father was incapable of speech the first few times we met?”

“Stunned speechless by your beauty, Addie-love,” Gerontius laughed. “To the point where you actually asked if I’d been born mute.”

“What else was I supposed to believe?”

 

As time passed, Belladonna continued with her journeys outside the borders. She was scolded soundly by her mother every time she disappeared, but paid little heed to her words. She had already managed to secure a promise from Gandalf on his latest visit that once she was of age, he would take her on a journey to Rivendell. With that goal set in mind, she spent what time she could on trying to prepare herself for the journey.

She still met Bungo every now and then; sometimes he visited Tuckborough with his father, and sometimes Belladonna would decide to walk all the way to Hobbiton and seek him out. He didn’t speak much when they were together, but he listened carefully to everything she said and gave her advice when she asked for it. She even received a gift from him when he came of age. One day her mother had poked her head into her daughter’s room and told her that there was a parcel and a letter for her.

The parcel had contained a book with tales and legends from outside the Shire, which, after she had examined the writing on the letter envelope, seemed to be written with Bungo’s hand. She couldn’t help but laugh as she flipped through the pages and wondered how many travellers and merchants the reclusive Baggins had been forced to interrogate to be able to fill a book. There were neat notes in the margin with theories about when the stories had first appeared, what they meant and what had inspired them, and she realised soon that this had probably all been scribbled down in one of his notebooks once.

She looked at the paper the book had been wrapped in again and read the neat writing on the front. _For my very dear friend – I hope you will find it enjoyable._

“Friend,” she said softly to herself, smiling warmly as she trailed her fingers over the leather-bound book. “I suppose you say more in writing than you do when you speak.”

She put the book down by her side and opened the letter, and her smile widened as she read it.

_5 Forelithe_

_Greenbriars_

_Hobbiton_

_Dear miss Took,_

_I apologise for not writing to you sooner. I remember that you asked why I hadn’t done so last year. The stress this past month has pushed much else out of my mind, and I fear I’ve been quite distracted with preparations. My mother had to remind me that I had a gift ready for you._

_My deepest apologies for not sending you and yours an invitation! I had wanted to, but there were already so many who would come, and father had already said that if we were to invite one more family we would not be able to feed them. I did not wish to put any undue strain on either him or mother._

_But for you, at the very least, I have procured a gift and have sent it along with this letter. I hope it finds you well, and that you will enjoy the gift. Mother had suggested ribbons, but I thought you might like this more – I don’t believe I have ever seen you with ribbons in your hair. If I have, I must have forgotten. You speak so often of your journeys that simple ribbons did not feel as though they would be appreciated._

_Speaking of your journeys, I remember that you were planning to leave on another very soon. I must confess that I cannot understand your wish to leave the Shire, but all the same I shall wish you safe travels, and will hope that you return soon. I will miss your visits when you are gone. They bring a little unpredictability into an otherwise fairly dull existence._

_You told me last time that I do not speak much when we meet; I feel I must apologise for this. I become rather caught up in listening to you. Hearing about your last journey or walking holiday or what your family has got up to is quite enjoyable, and it does not quite feel like I would have much to add or tell about myself. There truly is not much to know, besides that I seem to have found a dear friend in you._

_You are the most interesting occurrence in my life so far, and I am proud to say so. Though I confess I’ve received many inquiries regarding your sudden interest in me. You are not unknown in Hobbiton, miss Took, and people here are rather curious about how you and I met. I cannot quite understand your interest myself, but I am pleased all the same._

_Be safe when you leave on your next journey, and return home soon. You will be sorely missed._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Bungo Baggins_

Belladonna read the letter a second and third time, and soon found herself laying on her back in her bed with the letter pressed to her chest. She could hardly remember the last time she had blushed so fiercely, but now she laid there and stared up at the ceiling while attempting to will away the heat in her cheeks.

“Caught up in listening to me,” she muttered. “Most interesting occurrence in his life. That… That silly…” She shook her head. “No, don’t do this, Belladonna. You have a journey to the north to prepare for. No need to put silly ideas in your head now.”

 

Belladonna continued with her journeys. Every time she left the Shire, she would leave a message for her family and send a letter to her friend in Hobbiton to let him know that she would be away for a time. And every time she returned home, there was an answer waiting for her. As soon as she found a moment, she would make her way to Hobbiton to seek Bungo out and tell him all about what she had seen and done.

Bungo, for his part, seemed very pleased that she was interested in keeping up a correspondence with him at all. He started to bring along a pen and one of his notebooks wherever he went, just in case she would show up, and he would take notes as she spoke.

Slowly but surely, they grew more fond of each other. Belladonna found herself giddily anticipating every letter and every meeting, and if Bungo’s often flushed cheeks and stuttered speech was anything to go by, he felt the same. Tentatively, bit by bit, they opened up to each other. Bungo would very softly refer to Belladonna as a breath of fresh air, and she would in turn see him as a steady rock to return to.

The year Belladonna came of age, their relationship had morphed into something more. Bungo finally worked up the courage to ask to court her, and soon enough the discussion was brought up with their families. Belladonna spent a lot of time attempting to keep her brothers from hurting the poor young Baggins, a good deal more than she actually spent in his company.

But even as they were making plans and trying to make all the pieces of the puzzle fit together, the wanderlust struck Belladonna again. She settled on the decision to go on another journey very quickly, though an argument broke out as soon as she brought up the possibility of leaving. Bungo pleaded with her to stay, and soon enough Belladonna lost her temper.

“You have never attempted to make me stay before,” she snapped. “Why is it so important to you now?! Whatever plans we have, they can be postponed! It can wait until I come back!”

“ _If_ you come back,” Bungo answered. He didn’t raise his voice at her, he didn’t even sound angry; instead, his voice held the tone of defeat. “There’s no guarantee, is there? You’ve told me so many times before.”

“And still I’ve always returned!” It was Belladonna who raised her voice now. “You don’t trust me! You don’t believe that I will be as careful as ever!”

“I never said that,” Bungo said quietly. “I have never said that.”

“But you imply it!”

They stared at each other for a moment; Bungo was the first to look away.

“Whatever I say, you will go,” he sighed. “I know I can’t stop you, but I had hoped that you would find this more important.” He gave a wan smile and shook his head. “You’d best start packing, then. I won’t keep you.”

Belladonna huffed angrily and stormed off. She had expected him to become angry, to actually argue with her. Instead he had simply asked her to stay, to reconsider, and finally given up. He’d seemed disappointed and sad, but unwilling to force her. She would’ve felt better if he had been angry and shouted at her.

“Never loses his temper,” she grumbled as she packed. “Never raises his voice, never shouts. Unbelievable bloody…”

She left before dawn the next day, hoping to put as much distance between herself and Tuckborough as possible before noon. She took little notice of the sun’s passing, and barely even realised that it was near time for elevenses when she passed the Three Farthing Stone. She kept a steady pace and wouldn’t stop, but rather pulled an apple from her pack to eat. She had no appetite.

When she finally did deign to stop, she sat down in the grass by the side of the road and stared sullenly at her feet. So lost in thought was she that she didn’t even hear the sound of hooves and the rattling of a cart until it came to a halt right in front of her and a booming voice spoke.

“Why, Belladonna Took! What on earth are you sitting by the roadside for?”

Belladonna raised her head and blinked, staring up at the old man who held the horse’s reins. He was clad in grey and wore a silver scarf, a pointy hat and black boots.

“Gandalf,” she gasped. “I thought you’d not come until Midsummer!”

Gandalf smiled kindly at her as she stumbled back on her feet.

“I managed to come earlier,” he said calmly. “Come now, my dear girl, what on earth is the matter? You are not at all yourself today. You would have heard me coming long ago and come running to meet me, normally. And you do not wear your hair up, though you usually do when you leave on a journey.”

Belladonna hesitated and fiddled with the straps of her pack. Gandalf had never judged her for anything that had happened in her life. She still felt upset, and having a friendly ear lent to her might well make her feel a little better.

“The past few days have been a disaster,” she groaned. “Why does everything have to be so complicated? I _want_ to marry him, but I don’t want to give up on travelling to do so! And he doesn’t even get angry, he just _gives up_ when I snap at him! Oh dear, I _snapped_ at him! I’ve never been angry with him before, and now it’s over something as ridiculous as this!”

“Calm yourself, my dear girl,” Gandalf said. “Tell me what has been going on lately. I fear I do not know the full story.”

And so Belladonna told him the full story. She paced back and forth as she told him of Bungo, of how they had come to grow close, of the courtship and the progressing plans for marriage. She told him of how she had lost her temper and how she had come to leave.

“I need this journey,” she sighed. “I need to do this. And I think he understands that, but he’s so worried that I won’t come back, just like Hildifons. He’s… Well, he’s not afraid to _tell_ me so, but he just… I thought he’d be _angry_ , I thought he’d try to _make_ me stay! But no! Doesn’t even raise his voice, and then _I_ get angry and he just _gives up_!”

She threw out her hands and gave the wizard a helpless look. Gandalf simply smiled at her and patted the seat beside him.

“Come then, Belladonna,” he said. “I’ll postpone my visit to your father, and you shan’t be travelling alone. Though a letter to your family would not be amiss, considering where we will go.”

“Why? Where will we go?”

“I promised you that I would take you to Rivendell once you were of age, and I do believe that it’s time to fulfil that promise.”

Belladonna laughed, some sort of relief settling over her. A journey like this was just what she needed. Without a second thought, she climbed up onto the cart, and within moments they were off. Gandalf asked her to tell him what had been happening in the Shire since his last visit, but he kindly avoided the subject of her own engagement. It didn’t take long for Belladonna to relax and stop going over the argument in her head over and over again.

 

Rivendell had been everything Belladonna had dreamt, and more. She had never seen elves before, though she knew that they sometimes travelled near or through the Shire; seeing them up close was both impressive and intimidating. But curious and bold as Tooks tend to be, Belladonna soon worked past her initial shyness and simply started to treat them the same way she treated Gandalf (albeit with a little bit more respect – the wizard was, after all, more familiar with her). And once it was time to return to the Shire, she left with her pack containing two thick books that she had been allowed to bring along.

Gandalf travelled the whole way with her, laughing when she asked why and stating that it was about time that he paid a visit to her father.

It was a beautiful afternoon in early August when the wizard’s cart made its way up the hill towards Tuckborough and the Great Smials. As expected, word had quickly been sent when the cart had been spotted, and Belladonna’s parents were waiting outside for them when the cart rattled up to the Great Smials. Adamanta looked decidedly put out, which was nothing new; her disapproval of her eldest daughter’s love for travelling was very well known. The surprise was the lack of a smile from Gerontius, who simply nodded to Gandalf before turning his sharp eyes on his daughter.

“Go on inside and unpack, lass,” he said to her. “We’ll be having words later, so stay in your room until you are called for, understood?”

Belladonna, who had been expecting a warm smile and a request for a tale or two of what she had seen, deflated. She shrank under her father’s suddenly stern gaze and stared down at her feet to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Yes, father,” she mumbled. “Understood.”

She took her pack and went inside, only just catching her father’s words to Gandalf before she closed the door behind her.

“I’d like to know what your part is in this, my old friend,” Gerontius said seriously. “My daughter’s letter was rather short and lacking in detail.”

Belladonna moved slowly through her familiar home, somehow feeling worse than when she had left. She couldn’t understand what had happened; the only times her father had ever been so serious, it had always been aimed at someone else, and it had always been regarding official business regarding his position as Thain. She had never seen that side turned to her or her siblings. “Having words” with her father was something that only ever happened to Isengrim or Isumbras, if they did something particularly stupid – they were the two oldest, after all, and depending on how time would will it, the office of Thain could fall to either of them. But even then Gerontius never seemed so closed off. Her older brothers had been scolded in front of the family many times, and Gerontius had always done so with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes and with the unerring kindness of a father who had done the exact same things as his sons in his youth.

She had barely started to unpack her things as the door to her room opened again. Her sisters, Donnamira and Mirabella, entered the room. They looked oddly nervous, as though they weren’t certain that they were allowed to be there. For a long while, the three sisters stared at each other. Finally, Belladonna had enough.

“Whatever you want, say it and have done,” she snapped. “I don’t have the patience for this today!”

Donnamira immediately rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Wouldn’t you do the same?” she asked. “Bella, you’ve been away for far longer than ever before. Everyone’s been worried.”

“Isumbras went looking for you,” Mirabella stated quietly. “You never said how long you’d be gone, so he actually tried to find you.”

“I didn’t stay near the borders,” Belladonna grumbled, removing her recently acquired books from the pack. “Gandalf wanted to fulfil his promise to me.”

“You went to Rivendell, then.” Donnamira sighed softly. “No wonder you were gone for so long. Are those books from there?”

“They are,” Belladonna muttered. “Not that I see why it matters where they’re from.”

“Of course it doesn’t matter,” Mirabella said immediately. “But Bella, can’t you tell us about it?”

Belladonna hesitated; she never kept secrets from her sisters, they had always been able to share everything about their lives with each other. They had been the first to find out about every major occurrence in her life.

“Later,” she decided. “Father wanted to see me, so it’ll have to wait a bit.”

Donnamira and Mirabella stayed with their older sister to keep her company until Adamanta finally descended upon them and shooed her younger daughters off. They left with sheepish smiles and quiet reassurances that everything would be alright, which only served to make Belladonna more worried about what had actually happened while she’d been away. She gave her mother a nervous look, and was surprised to see a soft smile on her face.

“I am not angry, my dear girl,” Adamanta said. “I worried, of course, but I think I got most of it out of my system before the first month was out.”

“You looked angry when I arrived,” Belladonna answered quietly. “I thought you were going to shout at me.”

“Your father and I disagreed about why you’d been gone for so long, that is all,” her mother sighed. “I felt sure that it was Gandalf’s fault somehow, but of course Gerontius wouldn’t hear of that.” Adamanta stepped close and pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. “You won’t like what your father has to say to you, I’m afraid. But promise me that you won’t do anything rash, do you hear? Promise me that.”

Belladonna felt as though something was twisting her guts. The way everyone behaved worried her, and as her mother led her towards Gerontius’s study, she slowly went over each possibility in her mind. Another of her siblings might have died. But no, that couldn’t be it, her sisters wouldn’t have seemed so calm then. Perhaps another relative? But that made no sense either, then they would have told her immediately.

Soon they stood outside the study. Adamanta knocked and opened the door calmly, gesturing for Belladonna to enter.

Gerontius sat by his desk, not even looking up from his papers as she entered. The door closed, and father and daughter were left alone in the room. Belladonna stood completely still, watching her father warily until he finally looked up. The serious look on his face still hadn’t faded away.

“Well, you’re home,” he said slowly. “Safe and sound, as always.”

“As always,” she agreed quietly. “As I promised.”

They fell silent again. Gerontius watched his daughter as she looked around in the room for something to keep her eyes on. He knew very well what she was trying to do.

“My little girl,” he sighed at last, leaning back in his chair. “Always off on some adventure or other, always on the move. Only rarely stopping to consider what it would mean to others.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Belladonna snapped angrily. “It has never bothered you before when I’ve been off somewhere!”

“It has never bothered me before because you’ve never left after arguing with someone before,” Gerontius answered steadily. “Your young master Baggins was quite miserable when he came to ask me what he ought to do.”

Belladonna froze. She had hoped that this particular matter would not need to be discussed, but it seemed that it was impossible to avoid. She pursed her lips and turned her eyes away from her father again, trying to look disinterested.

“I am not telling you that you did wrong in leaving,” her father continued. “But you could have gone about this differently.”

“I did nothing wrong,” she mumbled in response, trying to cling to what she had been telling herself whenever she thought of the argument on her journey. “If he wished to keep me-“

“You twisted his words and claimed he didn’t trust you,” Gerontius stated sharply. “You were angry because he asked you to stay at all, and you would not hear whatever reasons he might’ve had for asking. I cannot say my reaction would have been different, my dear, but Bungo does not have your mother’s way of handling a Took’s temper.”

“What on earth is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means, Bella, that he doesn’t know you so well yet. He cares for you, and I have no doubt that he wants to marry you, but he has only ever seen your good sides so far. Give him time. Apologise for losing your temper, and I’m certain you will immediately receive an apology for his persistence. But give him time to learn more about you.”

Belladonna huffed. It felt ridiculous. Obviously she knew that arguments would surface every now and then in a marriage, but the way she saw it, it was the good sides of a person that one had to focus on. A reminder of _why_ one fell in love was always needed.

“If he can’t handle that small thing, then maybe it’s not worth it,” she grumbled even as she felt an anxious guilt tug at her heart. “I snapped at him, that’s all.”

Her father’s piercing eyes sought hers, and finally she relented and looked back at him. She could see the reproach in his gaze and didn’t need to hear it.

“Speak with him,” he insisted firmly. “He at least deserves that much.”

 

A mere week had passed since Belladonna Took’s return to the Shire when the news spread like a wildfire throughout the land: the Thain’s eldest daughter had argued with her intended and taken the decision that they were not to be wed at all.

Belladonna had indeed gone to Hobbiton to seek out Bungo and speak with him, but not for the reason her father had suggested. Not to apologise, but to simply break things off for good. She had been fuming when she returned to Tuckborough, and had kept herself locked inside her room the entire evening.

Bungo hadn’t been angry. Indeed, he had not even seemed surprised. He simply blinked and nodded and said that if she wished it, then so it would be.

“I told you before I left that I know I can’t stop you,” he told her. “And I know better than to force my attentions on someone who does not want them.”

She barely knew herself why she was so angry with him for those words. She tried again and again to convince herself that it wasn’t worth the effort, but she spent that evening with her face hidden in her pillow as she wept. When she left her room the next day, she was immediately besieged with questions from her siblings about what on earth had happened. She noted with faint interest that her parents did not seem surprised either and simply chose to leave her be.

“He doesn’t want to fight to keep me,” Belladonna told her sisters when she had explained everything to them. “He doesn’t even want to convince me that it might be worth it. How am I supposed to marry someone who doesn’t wish to face a struggle?”

“He doesn’t want you to be angry,” Donnamira pointed out. “That’s all.”

“But I _am_ angry,” Belladonna snapped. “He doesn’t even try! He refuses to! He’s ready to let me go at the drop of a hat! Of course I’m angry!”

“He is trying to accommodate your wishes,” Mirabella sighed. “You wanted to travel, and you got angry when he asked you to stay, so of course he’d let you go. You decided that you wanted to end the courtship, and why should he stop you if you’d only get angry?”

“He’s a spineless coward,” Belladonna grumbled. “He doesn’t argue, he doesn’t try to keep me, all because he doesn’t want me to be angry. A little late for that.”

Her sisters exchanged exasperated looks.

“Perhaps you should speak to Hildigrim and Rosa,” Donnamira suggested. “They went through something similar, didn’t they? Rosa worried that he had someone else so she wouldn’t force her attentions on him, and Hildigrim thought it meant that she didn’t want him…”

“It’s not the same,” Belladonna argued immediately. “That was just Hildigrim being scared of telling her how he felt!”

“It _is_ the same,” Mirabella insisted. “Bella, please, talk to them. They might be able to give you some advice. Rosa is Bungo’s cousin, after all, she might know what’s wrong.”

It took nearly another week before Belladonna even considered taking that advice. When she finally found herself outside the door to the rooms belonging to her brother and his wife, she felt nervous; either they didn’t know how to help, and she could simply go back to feeling angry and betrayed, or they _did_ know, and she’d have to argue her case against two hobbits more experienced in love than she.

Rosa Baggins and Hildigrim Took had had a difficult start to their life together. Hildigrim had been a notorious flirt when they met, and Rosa had been completely swept off her feet by him. She fell in love with how carefree and cheerful he was, but thought that he was joking whenever he would ask to court her. The fact that Hildigrim had flirted with other lasses didn’t really help matters, and only strengthened Rosa’s belief that she shouldn’t attempt to make him settle down. How they finally sorted the matter out was a mystery to all involved, but the rumour-mill in the Shire liked to claim that they had put the dessert before the main course, so to speak, and thus had to marry very quickly before it became too noticeable.

“But he never gave up,” Belladonna told herself quietly as she knocked on their door. “Hildigrim didn’t give up even if he might have thought that Rosa didn’t love him.”

The door flew open, and a small curly-haired blur flew out and tackled her with a joyous shout.

“Auntie Bell!” shouted Adalgrim, her five-year-old nephew. “You here!”

“I am, dear,” Belladonna laughed as she scooped him up into her arms. “Come here, little birdie, and we’ll see where your mam is, shall we?”

Rosa sat by an open window with her needlework, but she put it down and got to her feet when Belladonna entered with the little boy in her arms. She gave them both a warm smile and stepped forward to embrace them both.

“Mam, look,” Adalgrim called excitedly. “Auntie Bell!”

Rosa laughed and took the squirming boy from Belladonna’s arms.

“Yes, it’s Auntie Bell, dear,” she said, giving the younger lass a smile and a wink. “If you’re nice, Adalgrim, she might have stories for you.”

“Oh, perhaps a couple,” Belladonna answered with a bright grin. “But I did come to talk to you and Hild, if it’s no trouble. I needed to ask you a few things.”

“Now, that’s rare.” Rosa raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, her brown curls bouncing as she moved. “What did you want to ask?”  
“It’s… Well, it’s about how you and Hild started courting,” Belladonna answered nervously. “That is, if you’d be willing to tell me about it.”

A definitely knowing look appeared on Rosa’s face, and she gave her sister-in-law a sage nod.

“This wouldn’t be about cousin Bungo, would it?” she asked casually as she put her son down.

“No, it isn’t,” Belladonna protested immediately. “I’m just curious!”

“Of course,” Rosa hummed. “Well, Hild went to see if he could get that fox that’s been sneaking about near mister Burrow’s farm, so if you want to speak with both of us it may be best to wait until he’s back.” She smiled warmly again. “In the meantime, I’m certain a certain little birdie wouldn’t mind a few stories.”

Belladonna gladly took the chance of thinking about something else for a while. She sat there by the window with Adalgrim in her lap, telling him any story she could think of while Rosa sat next to them with her needlework, listening and laughing.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Hildigrim returned home, making quite a ruckus as he came through the door.

“Now that fox has been dealt with,” he called out as he entered. “Old Polo Burrows will make good use of its hide, and his precious hens are safe until another of those beasts start sniffing around here.”

“Fox-hunting in the day is still difficult,” Belladonna called back with a grin as Adalgrim jumped down from her lap and rushed to greet his father. “You should be doing it around twilight! No wonder you’ve never caught it before!”

“Greetings to you too, little sister,” Hildigrim laughed. “Sadly I still don’t have eyes to see with at night, so fox-hunting will have to be done while the sun is up.” Still with his son in his arms, he pulled Rosa to her feet and kissed her cheek before simply grabbing Belladonna’s hand and pulling her into a firm embrace. “Now, what devious plans have you two been making in my absence? My birthday’s some way off yet, so it couldn’t possibly be that.”

“Obviously we planned to both be busy while you give Adalgrim a bath,” Rosa said airily. “But I fear you may have seen through our plan, so we shall have to make a new one.”

“Devious indeed,” her husband groaned. “I think I prefer birthday plans.”

“Since when am I allowed to help with birthday planning?” Belladonna asked. “Everyone always tells me to wait and see.”

“Speaking about waiting,” Rosa said brightly. “Bella has been waiting for you, Hild. She wanted a word with both of us.”

Soon enough they were seated together, speaking calmly while Adalgrim played on the floor with some carved wooden figures. Belladonna considered joining him several times in the hopes of escaping the conversation – or rather, escaping her seemingly all-knowing brother and sister-in-law.

“Oh, I was convinced that she hated me and was just trying to be polite,” Hildigrim laughed. “What else was I supposed to think? I thought that my affections were wholly unwelcome, so why should I tell her outright what I felt?”

“Whereas I thought that he was only ever joking,” Rosa sighed, giving her husband a reproachful look. “I thought he said the same thing to any girl who briefly caught his fancy.”

“But you solved it, didn’t you?” Belladonna asked quietly. “You realised that something wasn’t right.”

“You can thank your brother’s Tookishness for that,” Rosa answered. “He decided that even if I apparently loathed him, he should at least be straightforward and put all cards on the table, so to speak. It was all or nothing; either I would reject him and tell him to leave me be, or he might have a chance to win me over.”

“Do you remember that time I didn’t go to see her, Bella?” Hildigrim asked. “When I was sulking all the time and constantly complaining about my bad luck? That was just before I decided to tell her.”

Belladonna nodded; she remembered it quite well. None of her brothers were known as the type to sulk, so Hildigrim’s sudden sullen mood had been a bit of a shock. Then one day it had simply disappeared, as though it had never happened, and not long after that the news spread that the two were courting.

As she looked up, she saw her brother watching her with a knowing smile on his face.

“Tell me, sister,” he said calmly. “Would this have anything to do with the recent developments with your little sweetheart?”

“It is nothing to do with him,” Belladonna snapped. “Why do you assume that?”

“Why, I would presume to know my little sister,” Hildigrim answered. “Bella, you’ve been miserable since you last went to Hobbiton. No, don’t argue! I can’t say I thought much of the lad, but I know well that it was you who ended things and not he. And now you sulk because things haven’t gone the way you wanted.”

“I do not sulk,” Belladonna mumbled mutinously. “And things have gone exactly as I wanted. I broke ties with him, and I haven’t been in touch with him since.”

“But you’re not happy,” her brother insisted. “And neither is he, I should think.”

“Why should that bother me?”

“Why? Because I would imagine that you care for him. You’d have to if you even considered marrying him before.”

The siblings stared at each other; or rather, Hildigrim watched his sister with a knowing smirk on his face while Belladonna glared back at him as though hoping to somehow set his hair on fire.

“A Baggins does not force their attentions onto someone who does not wish for them,” Rosa said, speaking as though she was reciting a well-rehearsed passage from a book. “A no is a no, and we shan’t ask for it to be changed to a yes.” The brown-haired hobbit smiled at the surprised looks the two Tooks sent her. “There’s not a single Baggins-child who doesn’t know that by heart. We don’t pressure people. We might ask for a reason, but won’t press the matter further than the other person may wish to take it. As I recall, Bungo knows and swears by those rules of conduct.”

“And there you have it,” Hildigrim said brightly. “You, my dear little sister, told him _very_ clearly that you had no wish to continue with the courtship, and now he won’t ask for another chance unless you speak with him about it.”

“You’re saying I cocked it up,” Belladonna grumbled.

“Language,” Rosa said firmly. “There’s a child present.”

“While my dear wife is right and you should probably tone down on those words,” Hildigrim said, “you are absolutely right, Bella. You were hoping that he would understand what you actually wanted without having to say it. He didn’t, and now you’re angry about it.”

“I am not that immature,” Belladonna protested. “I am not a child anymore!”

“Indeed you are not. But you _are_ still young, and you can be very fickle.”

 

When Belladonna finally sat alone in her room later in the evening, she was mulling over the conversation with Hildigrim and Rosa. She had never liked admitting that she might be wrong, but the anxiety she had felt before seeing her brother and his wife had started to creep up on her again. She had expected to feel angry once more, that she wouldn’t receive a clear answer, but found that she couldn’t deny what they had said.

“I’ve been so stupid,” she moaned, laying down on her stomach on the bed. “Of course he would be polite, that’s how he _always_ is. Why didn’t I realise?”

It was rare for Belladonna to want to apologise for something she had done; if it happened at all, it was usually in regard to her siblings or her parents. But now she found herself wanting to simply march out the door and walk the long way to Hobbiton and Bungo’s home to ask for forgiveness. It was only a small part of her mind that stopped her. She couldn’t quite imagine that the Bagginses as a family thought very kindly of her now, after she had decided to end the courtship. To march up to their door and ask to speak with Bungo might not send the right signals.

“A letter,” she muttered into her pillow. “A letter will have to suffice… Oh, but he is far better than me at expressing his thoughts in writing. How am I supposed to do this without offending him?”

After debating back and forth with herself for a while, she finally settled on the letter. She always kept paper and ink in her room in case there was something she had to write down; it felt safer, somehow, than having to go and look for it and potentially tell someone what she was up to.

But sitting down at her desk, she simply found herself staring at the paper and wondering how she should start, what she ought to say.

“Pull yourself together,” she told herself glumly. “Admit defeat. That’s what you wanted to do. Now just take the pen and write.”

The first few attempts were quickly crossed out. Finally she settled into a rhythm, trying to pour as much of her thought and will as she possibly could into the words she wrote. When she had finished, she leant back and carefully read through what she had written, looking for any mistakes.

_My dear Bungo,_

_Forgive me if I overstep any boundaries by calling you that. I feel that apologising is all I do now, though rightly so._

_I have wronged you, as I have never wronged anyone else. It was supremely unfair of me to treat you in such a manner as I did upon our last meetings, and I wish to take back my harsh words, if it is indeed possible to do so._

_I have not lost my love for you, but sometimes my temper gets the better of me and rules my actions. I believe my mother would call it a classical Tookish mistake. I became angry at a perceived attempt to limit my freedom, and I should have reigned in my temper and listened to you._

_Forgive me for not coming to say this to you in person. I could not be certain of the welcome I would receive, and I have no wish to upset you. Though I suspect I already have, skilled as I am at communicating. That is and has always been your forte, has it not? More skilled with words than the best wordsmith. I wish I might learn some of this from you one day._

_As I am well aware of how hurtful my actions have been, I will not force you to forgive me. I am truly sorry for how I have behaved, but I will not treat you worse than I already have by forcing you to accept an apology._

_All I ask of you, my dear Bungo, is that you give me an answer. A simple yes or no will suffice as to whether you accept my apology or not._

_I understand if you do not wish to see me again, and if so, I shan’t seek you out and will leave you in peace._

_Always yours,_

_Belladonna_

She sighed deeply. It was perhaps not as eloquent as she would have liked, but it would have to do. She could have asked for help from her siblings, but to her that would mean admitting defeat. Not to mention that Bungo would probably realise that it wasn’t her own words. He certainly knew her well enough for that.

“I’ll send it off in the morning,” she mumbled to herself as she set the letter aside to let the ink dry. “I wonder how soon I’ll have his answer…”

 

Five days came and went, and Belladonna waited anxiously for an answer. She wanted dearly to go wandering again to soothe her nerves, but thought better of it in case she might miss the letter. She’d rather not have any of her siblings, or her parents, see it before her. Every day she was the first to carefully check what letters had arrived, and when she didn’t find anything addressed to her, she’d quickly slip away and sulk for a while.

“Maybe he’s not going to answer,” she said to herself. “Maybe he didn’t so much as read my letter.”

On the sixth day, Belladonna had already given up. She sat sulking under the apple tree in the garden; she would perhaps have been reading if she could have brought herself to focus, but she only stared sullenly at the pages in her book.

“Why are you sitting out here all alone?”

Belladonna looked up, frowning slightly as Isengrim, her eldest brother, approached her. He was smiling brightly as though not a thing in the world was wrong, and the smile irked her.

“I wanted to be alone,” she answered. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Of course not,” Isengrim soothed, taking a seat beside her and leaning against the tree. “I only wondered. It’s not like you to sulk like this.”

“I am not sulking.”

“And it’s not a brilliantly sunny day.” Isengrim raised an eyebrow at her. “You look like a little raincloud. Whatever’s the matter? You know you can tell me.”

“It’s nothing.” Belladonna closed her book and looked away. “I am not sulking.”

“Little black raincloud,” Isengrim said with a smirk. “Come now, Belladonna, you can tell me. I promise to not make fun of you. I’m your brother.”

“If you must know, I am waiting for a letter,” Belladonna snapped back. “One that’s taking its time, or might not get here at all.”

“A letter, you say,” her brother hummed. “Now, who have you been writing to, little sister?”

“That’s none of your business.” She got to her feet, brushing a few stray strands of grass from her dress. “I’ll go back inside.”

“It wouldn’t happen to be this letter?”

Belladonna froze and turned her head to stare at her brother, who grinned back at her and calmly pulled a letter out of his pocket. She caught a glimpse of familiar neat writing on the front, and practically flung herself at him.

“Give it here,” she cried. “Why do you have it?!”

“Why, that would be because father asked me to take it to you,” Isengrim laughed, moving so that he held the letter just out of his sister’s reach. “Come now, can’t you say ‘thank you for bringing the letter to me’?”

“Give me the letter, Grim!” Belladonna tugged at his arm and glared at him. “This isn’t funny!”

“Who is it actually from?” Isengrim grinned mischievously at her. “Did you swallow your pride, little sister?”

“Shut! Your! Piehole!” Belladonna quickly reached out and managed to snatch the letter out of his hand. “How are you so childish?”

“I need a break sometimes,” he answered, shrugging calmly as he got up on his feet. “Being the eldest son of the Thain becomes very tiring. Well, I’ll let you read your precious letter in peace.”

She glared suspiciously after him as he left, but settled back under the tree. She stared at the letter in her hands; it was definitely Bungo’s writing. Suddenly she felt anxious, worried about what his answer may be.

“What if he doesn’t want to see me again?” she mumbled to herself. “What if he only wrote to tell me not to contact him again?”

Finally she groaned loudly, frustrated with her own indecision, and tore the envelope open. She needed to know, and it was best to take care of it as fast as possible. With shaking fingers, she took out the letter and frowned as she saw just how short it was. Then she read the message, and her eyes widened.

_My Belladonna,_

_I will travel to Tuckborough in a few days with my father. Please, wait for me. I’ve missed you._

_Yours, and only yours,_

_Bungo_

And below the short message, very hastily scrawled in capital letters, she read this:

_APOLOGY ACCEPTED!_

She was on her feet in only a moment, letter clutched in her hands, and ran into the smial to ask her father when he awaited a visit from the Baggins-family. All the while, her mind kept repeating the same things over and over again: _he called me his, he said he’s mine, he said he missed me, he forgave me_.

 

Belladonna was thirty-eight years old and had married nine months previous, and she sat in a very comfortable armchair by the fire in the smial she shared with her husband. She had a small notebook in her lap and was smiling fondly while she read what was written on the page she had it open to.

Life had been kind to her, really. Or at least so her parents were very keen on telling her whenever they saw her nowadays.

“It speaks of how Tookish you are, my little vixen,” Gerontius had told her with a laugh once, “when life simply drops the kindest possible fellow straight into your lap – or your garden, in this case – and you nearly drop said fellow for the sake of a ridiculous argument. But I’m very proud of you for reeling him back in. Though perhaps it speaks more of how your Baggins is a little too quick to forgive.”

“And you, my dear,” Adamanta had sniped back, “need to stop behaving as though forgiveness is something that shouldn’t be given easily.”

Hers and Bungo’s courtship had been stormy, to say the least, and had ended and been renewed three times before it was a fact that yes, they would indeed be wed. Arguments had been expected after their first big fight, though they had perhaps been handled a little better. During the last fight, Bungo had finally lost his temper and allowed himself to engage in a shouting-match with his future wife; though, to be fair, it had also been the shortest fight they’d had, and had ended once Belladonna interrupted her future husband mid-rant by telling him that he was very attractive when he was angry.

They’d really become quite legendary.

And now, with a little one only a month away from arriving, they had settled in nicely together in the smial Bungo had had built for them.

Belladonna broke out of her reveries when her husband entered the room. She smiled brightly at him, and smiled wider when she saw that he noticed the book in her lap.

“Might I ask what you’re doing with my notebook?” he asked curiously. “I was going to write something down…”

“Oh, I’m just looking at this one entry,” Belladonna replied airily. “The one with names.”

Bungo flushed, but he smiled all the same and walked over to her. He leant against the chair and gently trailed one hand over her head.

“They’re just ideas,” he murmured. “Did you want to add something?”

“I like that you’ve included names from my family,” Belladonna hummed. “My mother’s name could suit a lass. Though, so could your mother’s.”

“And for a lad?”

Belladonna hummed thoughtfully and peered at the list. Many of the Tookish names seemed too grand, somehow. She wanted her child to have something simpler, nothing that could be confused with the other males in her family.

“I favour the Baggins-names,” she said at length. “Short, concise, to the point.” Then she grinned brightly and tapped her finger on one of the lines. “This one, I think. A variant of your grandfather’s, isn’t it?”

Bungo smiled and nodded. His grandfather Balbo was the very first Baggins to have his name recorded on the Baggins family tree; in fact, Bungo’s father Mungo had been the one to make said family tree. Though perhaps it spoke of the age Balbo had been at the time, not to mention how his memory had gone, that he hadn’t really been able to recall any other names – not even those of his own family. Rumour was that he had not even recognised his own son when the lad questioned him about those names.

“Well, I thought it could be suitable,” Bungo said. “Does it sound alright?”

“I like it,” Belladonna answered. “It sounds nice. Let’s keep that one, if it’s a lad.”

“If it’s a lad, your father will owe mine four silver-pieces,” Bungo sighed. “And mine will never let yours forget that he lost a bet.”

Belladonna laughed, reached out and grabbed his collar and yanked him down for a kiss.

“That makes Laura or Adamanta for a lass,” she said. “And Bilbo for a lad.”

“As you wish,” Bungo laughed.


End file.
